


To Be Cautious

by jinkandtherebels



Category: Naruto
Genre: Hokage Uchiha Itachi, M/M, canon AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-16 04:17:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21030137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinkandtherebels/pseuds/jinkandtherebels
Summary: Itachi receives a late-night visitor in his office.





	To Be Cautious

**Author's Note:**

> Day Two Prompt: "Hokage Itachi". I feel like you could kinda read this as happening in the same universe as my Day One fic, if you are so inclined? Either way, hope you enjoy!

.

The breeze coming through the open window should be soothing, Itachi is sure. Except that he knows for a certainty he didn’t open it.

He sets his pen down on the desk as two hands cover his eyes.

“You aren’t supposed to be here,” he says, nonplussed, to the darkness.

“You need to turn on a light in here or you’ll go blind,” a familiar voice replies. The hands fall away as Shisui abandons his game. “Also, your ANBU guards need to be replaced. I could’ve been an assassin.”

“When our enemies learn the secret of the _shunshin_ and begin to flicker in and out of existence, then I will be concerned.”

Shisui snorts his opinion of that and makes himself comfortable on the desk; only quick thinking saves Itachi’s paperwork from being irreparably crumpled. His assistant will despair if this isn’t finished on time. And then there are the trade agreements with Kiri to look over, and ambassadors to Suna to finalize, and then…

“Hey.”

Itachi blinks out of his thoughts. Shisui is watching him.

“Are you sleeping?” he asks.

“Enough,” Itachi replies. It’s a lie and they both know it, but at least it’s an answer. Shisui makes a face.

“I’m gonna get on Isuzu about making sure you’re at least eating,” he threatens. “Two meals a day. Non-negotiable.”

“Everything is negotiable,” Itachi says dryly. “That is the nature of politics.”

“And that’s why you’re the one sitting in this quagmire, not me,” Shisui retorts. “All you do all day is compromise, whereas I don’t believe in it.”

“Obviously not, or you would have considered the implications of sneaking into my office in the middle of the night.”

Shisui shrugs. “Nothing wrong with the head of the Police Force updating his Hokage on the state of affairs. Besides—_shunshin_, remember? Nobody saw me come in. Or are you afraid your bodyguards’ll start spreading rumors that I’m absconding with your virtue?”

It’s bait, but Itachi is tired enough to take it. “Or the other way around?” he mutters, his head beginning to ache. “It could…complicate things.”

The exhaustion must show, because Shisui’s expression sobers.

“I know that,” he says. “And you know I’ll never do anything to undermine you. Nobody saw me, I promise.”

Itachi believes him. Shisui has always been more cautious than his cavalier attitude lets on, but it hasn’t been an easy three years for either of them—for anybody, truthfully. Itachi doubts things will improve anytime soon.

.

The Third had named Itachi as his successor a week after Itachi went to him on his knees and told Sarutobi everything he knew about the Uchiha coup. He had begged lenience for his clan, his family, his brother, terrified all the while that he was making a mistake; that the council, once told, would force him to do something he could not live with.

Instead the Hokage had chosen a different path. He had overridden his advisors, ignoring the fury of the Elders, and chosen as his heir an Uchiha who had proven beyond all doubt his loyalty to the village. Many influential clan members had then been quietly removed from their positions of power within the compound, to be replaced with fresher—more faithful—blood.

One of the new appointments had been Shisui himself as head of the Police Force. It was a canny selection on the Third’s part, replacing the former head with a young, charismatic and undeniably accomplished shinobi who was also known to be fiercely loyal to Itachi.

Of course, that former head had been Itachi’s father.

.

“How are they?” he asks.

Shisui doesn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Good. Everybody’s good. Your dad’s even started looking me in the eye again.” He laughs awkwardly, scratching back of his neck. “I mean, they’re murderous looks, but progress is progress.”

“It is,” Itachi says softly. Where many of the conspirators had left Konoha altogether in the wake of the aborted uprising, Fugaku had chosen to stay. Itachi still suspects his mother’s influence—that, and the fact that Sasuke had been so young at the time.

He receives letters from his mother with regularity and sees Sasuke at the Academy whenever he is able, but his father has not spoken to him since his accession. For his part, Itachi has avoided setting foot in the Uchiha compound.

Cool fingers brush a stray hair out of his face. Itachi looks up and meets Shisui’s eyes.

“He’ll come around,” Shisui says gently. “You’re still his blood.”

Itachi says nothing. After a moment Shisui withdraws his hand.

“So what were you working on before I distracted you?” he asks, already rifling through Itachi’s pile of papers. Itachi could make some pointed remark about security and secrecy and the chain of command, all of which Shisui would cheerfully ignore, or he could say nothing and keep his headache to a reasonable level. He chooses the latter—discretion is also part of politics—and listens to his cousin ramble on.

“Trade deals, diplomacy—if you want an Uchiha face for that Suna envoy, by the way, I’d recommend Izumi since she’s the only one in her squadron who won’t bite anyone’s head off—and, let’s see…”

Shisui stops. Too late Itachi remembers what he’d shoved to the bottom of the pile.

“Marriage,” Shisui says, his tone unreadable. “Huh.”

“It isn’t urgent,” Itachi says.

Shisui shrugs, the movement awkward. “I knew they’d start banging on about it sooner or later, but…”

He trails off. _Already?_ seems to hang heavy in the air between them.

Itachi prudently decides not to mention that he’s been dodging the matter for over a year now. “It doesn’t matter,” he says instead. “We are not Daimyo. The Hokage position is not a traditional inheritance; it’s not as if I am expected to have an heir of my blood.”

“Every Hokage has been married while in office,” Shisui points out. “It gives the village a sense of stability, keeps the person with the hat tied to their alliances and the interests of the populace. In theory.” His gaze is unwavering. “But you don’t need me to tell you any of that, so why are you pretending you do?”

Itachi looks away again, hiding his face from Shisui’s scrutiny. He says nothing, because everything he would say is steeped in bitterness.

Konoha would have destroyed his clan. He knows that in his bones. He can still see the rage of missed opportunity in Danzo’s eyes, still remembers how furious they had all seemed when Sarutobi came to council with a peaceful solution already in hand. They would have wiped the name Uchiha from the face of the earth, and in all likelihood they would have used Itachi to do it.

He does not know what he would have done, had it come to that. Itachi is grateful every day of his life that he wasn’t forced to make that choice.

But how far does that gratitude extend? While he accepted the Hokage position as the best solution to an untenable situation, he did not want it. It is a burden he will never be able to lay down; it has cost him his standing in the clan and even his own family, though not as permanently as the alternative would have done.

_What more would they have from me?_

Itachi knows it’s an uncomfortably childish thought, but it gnaws at him all the same. It’s the reason he keeps putting off the marriage question, relegating it to the bottom of the pile over and over.

All of his other choices have been removed from his reach. He is left only with negotiation and compromise and discretion, all of which he weighed and accepted when he went to the Third in the first place—he is a Konoha shinobi, and he will always do his duty.

And he knows, deep down, that he is not permitted to love where he will. But he would not be human if he didn’t resent it sometimes.

He has been quiet a long time. Shisui says nothing, waiting as he always does for Itachi to order his thoughts.

“I know what this position entails,” Itachi says at last. “I’ve known it from the beginning. I will give everything I have to this village, and I will do it gladly.” He takes a breath. “But the council cannot force me to give you up. I can strengthen alliances and care for my people without marrying someone who will never know me as you do.”

Silence follows. He finds it’s difficult to look Shisui in the eye.

The creak of the wooden desk and rustle of papers signal movement a scant moment before Shisui’s hands are at Itachi’s face, cradling it as if he were something delicate. He tips their foreheads together.

“I’m here as long as you want me,” he says quietly.

Their lips meet, and for a few blissful seconds the ache in Itachi’s skull fades. He stays very still.

After a moment Shisui pulls back enough to meet his eyes. “It’s not like I didn’t know what we were getting into when you got this gig, but if we’re being honest, I kind of hate the thought of you marrying someone else.”

His heart thuds painfully in his chest. “Shisui, I don’t expect—”

“I know, I know. You don’t _expect_ anything from anyone.” Shisui smiles a little. “But seeing as I’ve been in love with you since the Academy, I think you’re allowed to make an exception for me.”

There is nothing to say to that, really. Itachi leans into Shisui’s touch, closing his eyes; he feels as if he could fall asleep right here.

Shisui’s laughter keeps him from giving in to temptation. “Oh, no you don’t. You’re getting a real night’s sleep and you’re not doing it sitting up. I know for a fact you’ve got a futon stuffed inside this godforsaken office somewhere.”

He does, as it turns out. Shisui lays it out on the floor of the office and then stands there, hands on hips in a fair impression of his own mother, until Itachi gives in and lies down. It feels far more comfortable than a dusty futon on a hard floor has any right to, but then he supposes it has been a while since he last slept.

“Well,” Shisui is saying, “I’ll head out the way I came. Don’t want to cause a scandal in the morning, especially if they're trying to pass you off as a virgin for your bride-to—”

Itachi reaches up and catches Shisui’s fingers with his own. Shisui stops midsentence.

“Stay,” Itachi hears himself ask.

Shisui hesitates. “Are you sure?”

“I am always the first one to wake here,” Itachi murmurs, but he knows the truth is simpler than that. He is simply very tired, in a myriad of ways, and Shisui may be the last person in the village with whom he can be a little bit selfish.

Shisui offers no more token protest. Instead he shrugs off his vest and fits himself along the length of Itachi’s back, squirming to get underneath a blanket that was never meant for two people.

“For your birthday,” he mutters as he settles in, “I’m getting you a bigger futon.”

Itachi smiles, already closing his eyes again. “I will hold you to that.”

He feels a brief kiss to the back of his neck. “Sleep well, Lord Fifth,” Shisui says, and laughs softly when Itachi manages a grumble in response.

“All right, all right.” His hand snakes over Itachi’s waist, tangles their fingers together again. “Night, ‘tachi.”

They could be children again, curling up together back at the compound. They could be nobody. _He_ could be nobody, and it’s on that soothing thought that Itachi finally falls asleep.


End file.
